e's devoted to
Smollett.'

"'And why shouldn't we keep up with Harry?' I said.

"'Well, you know he took the first prize in literature, and ought to
have excellent taste. Then the young man who sold the set to me is
working his way through Yale. I was glad to help him, too; he
recommended these books--said they were moral and uplifting--not at
all like the modern trash. He knew that we enjoyed home reading. Mary
will read them aloud to us, and we'll enjoy them together.'

"This father of romance was not unknown to me, and I did not share her
confidence in the joys ahead of us, but said nothing.

"After a fine dinner Betsey wanted to start in at once. We sat down by
the fireside while her secretary began to read aloud from one of the
treasured volumes. I had not read the story, and chose it as being the
least likely to make trouble. In a short time we came to rough going
and the young woman began to falter.

"'That will do,' said Betsey, suddenly, as I tried to conceal my
emotions.

"She took the book from the hands of her secretary and read on in
silence for a minute or so.

"'My land!' she exclaimed, with a look of horror. 'That book would
corrupt the morals of John Bunyan.'

"'Never mind; John never lived in Pointview,' I argued. 'He didn't
have a chance to get hardened.'

"Betsey had a determined look in her face, and rang for the coachman.

"'I'll have them stored in the stable,' said she, firmly.

"'If you don't keep it locked, all the women in the neighborhood'll be
in there,' I warned her, knowing that she couldn't help telling her
friends of what had happened.

"'That's no reason why the men should be unduly exposed,' said Betsey.
'Poor things! It's my duty to protect _you_ as long as I can,
Socrates.'

"I promised to get rid of the books somehow, and persuaded her to let
them stay where they were until I had had time to think about it. Then
she said:

"'Socrates, forgive me. I didn't mean it, and I wanted to be so nice
to you. I guess it's a just punishment for my extravagance. I thought
the modern novels were bad enough. What can I do for you now?'

"'Always, when you're in doubt, do nothing,' I suggested.

"'Oh, I know what I'll do!' she exclaimed, joyfully. 'I'll knit you a
pair of socks with my own hands.'

"'Eureka!' I shouted. 'Those socks shall make footprints on the sands
of time.'"

VII

IN WHICH SOCRATES ATTACKS THE WORST DOERS AND BEST SELLERS

"One evening, soon a